


Peculiar Light

by Rubynye



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Genderplay, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irene in her arms is always a revelation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peculiar Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TehChou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehChou/gifts).



> Written for [That One Fic Fest Thing](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmfc_rarefest), with immense thanks to Introductory for running the fest, Tahariel for patient and thorough beta-ing, and Tehchou for giving such great prompts!
> 
> Title from Adrienne Rich's "My mouth hovers across your breasts".

Raven turns her head, just enough to slide her cheek over the pale hair tumbled across her pillow, and watches Irene lie serenely beside her: the gossamer laugh-lines edging her eyes, the contented smile creasing her velvety cheeks, her rhythmically quivering breasts as her chest calmly rises and sinks. Raven probably shouldn't _stare_ , but... sometimes all she wants to do is to observe Irene, how she moves and speaks and breathes. She's taken Irene's shape several times, in public, in private and in bed, but wearing her face and feeling her skin from the inside never brings Raven that last inch towards fully comprehending her.

 _And I dubbed_ myself _Mystique_ , Raven thinks, and smiles, which is precisely when Irene opens her clouded eyes and reaches out. Raven catches her breath, unwillingly reminded of Charles, and Irene brushes the thought away with a stroke of curled fingers down her cheek, skimming her furrowed scales. "Well, then," she murmurs, voice like golden honey, "aren't you going to kiss me?"

Raven could say no, of course, just to be contrary, to Irene's soft red lips and softer breasts, to the satiny gleam all down her damp translucent skin. But why fight fate? She laughs and rolls to her side, wraps an arm around Irene and kisses her.

Irene in her arms is always a revelation. Raven has made herself smaller than Irene, shorter, plumper, a tall and angular contrast or identical as a twin, physically male or a mix and match, but no shift in perspective changes Irene's essential mien, her quiet laugh, her heady scent, how infuriatingly, wonderfully impossible she is to surprise. Raven sweeps Irene's hair up out of the way, long strands catching on her textured fingers, tucks herself over Irene and sinks into her kiss, the sweetness of her mouth and the yielding warmth of her body. Sighing happily against Raven's lips, Irene drags her nails sharply up along Raven's spine, pressing her fingertips in to draw ten throbbing lines down her back, and Raven arches into the heated touch, pressing her hips down between Irene's plush thighs. It's only when Irene's chuckle tingles her lips that she hears herself growling.

Then Raven has to laugh too, all the way from the bottom of her lungs, and smear enthusiastic kisses down the tendon of Irene's throat as she rocks up onto her knees. Even the way Irene's skin slides smoothly alongside hers makes Raven want to touch her all over at once; going for the obvious, she curves her palm over Irene's tender breast, and Irene exhales a lilting noise of encouragement as her nipple, slightly swollen from the night's first round, stiffens under a thumbstroke. The surrounding skin draws up tightly, Irene's sucked-in breath pulling Raven in as irresistibly as ever to swirl her tongue across those tactile bumps and purse her lips around the resilient nipple.

Irene exhales on a shivery laugh, and as her fingers slide into Raven's hair she wiggles, pressing up into Raven's suckling mouth, hooking her leg over Raven's back. Raven tightens her grip on Irene's waist, on the slender arched ribs beneath her gauzy skin, drinking in her sweet saltiness, her deepening musk, her pleased wordless murmuring. Irene undulates in her hold, riding her hip on an oval of wet fire, belly rippling against Raven's sensitized chest, every shimmy echoed in the rising pulses of heat between Raven's thighs until Raven moans deep in her chest, against the tender curve of Irene's breast under her roving mouth.

"Yes, dear, come on," Irene says, soft and trembling, and Raven hungers, twisting in the depths of her belly, to feel that shudder from the inside, to feel Irene in every way possible. She kisses down the slope of Irene's breast, over her breastbone vibrating with her heartbeat, and she could stroke down Irene's translucent skin, could delve into her again with savoring tongue and lengthened fingers, but... that's not what she wants most, brushing her cheeks between Irene's breasts, hers tingling against Irene's pillowy belly as they gasp together. Raven wants to watch Irene's face as she's inside her, her laugh-lined eyes and pointed nose and delicate mouth all melting from control into ecstasy. Irene feels wonderful and tastes even better, but this time... Raven knows what she wants.

She looks up at the rounded angle of Irene's tipped-up chin, the pulse fluttering in her throat and her streaming hair, and has only just breathed in when Irene says, fingertips pressing perfectly over Raven's scalp, "Well then, Raven dear, please come up here and fuck me."

"Oh, _God,_ " is all Raven can groan for a long moment, shuddering in her turn as Irene's words ripple down her skin, every scale fluffing up before settling back into place, except at the apex of her thighs. Those fold into transformation, her inner lips pulsating as her clit swells into the cock she wants right now, wants to already have slid snugly inside Irene. She rocks forward, forehead pressed to Irene's breastbone and fists gripping the sheets as the shift prickles through her sensitive flesh, and Irene hums happily and runs shiver-inducing fingers over the crests of Raven's ears.

Then Irene wriggles so Raven's forehead slides up to the crook of her neck, skimming her hands over Raven's cheeks, one up around her nape, one down over her belly to curl around her cock. "Fuck," Raven hisses under the galvanic, silk-rough touch of Irene's long narrow fingers, and Irene turns their faces together, smiling into kissing her as she strokes. Irene's fingers slide up and along the crease behind Raven's cockhead, down and over its base as her flesh swells and merges, solid testicles tingling in Irene's curved palm. She smiles over Raven's mouth, strokes across to her hip, tightens her hold and tugs, on Raven's hip and Raven's nape and Raven's heart.

Surging towards Irene, Raven clutches Irene's rounded hips, fingers denting pillowy flesh as she pulls Irene up into her lunge, shoving into her too fast -- but Irene's groan is all happy eagerness in harmony with Raven's as she sinks into slick gripping heat. To make herself think, to slow down and enjoy this, Raven forces her eyes open against the clutching pleasure, watches Irene's arching eyebrows and crinkling eyelids as they gasp against each other's lips, the delicate flare of her nostrils and the fine creases spreading across her forehead as Raven hilts herself and she cries out high. But Irene digs her fingernails into Raven's nape and waist, unfair sparks of prickling pleasure, and Raven pulls back only to fall in, to slam in, Irene's whole body tensing into shudders beneath hers, Irene's mouth blooming wider as she moans, "More, Raven, more."

Raven's hips follow Irene's commands rather than her own melting mind, she pounds harder and harder into Irene's rippling flesh, into Irene vibrating all around her, gripping her with curled hands and pressing knees. Their overlapped breasts brush and slide, Irene's stiffened nipples stroking like fingertips, and Raven shivers with the heat streaming beneath her skin, fiery rivulets pooling at the base of her spine, tightening her balls, lapping at her cock with every stroke into Irene's slick tightening body.

Irene arches and writhes around Raven, suspended for a pulse-pounding moment before she catches a whooping breath and expels it in a rising cry. "Raven, Raven," Irene gasps, and the name has never sounded so completely hers, so full and joyful; Raven breathlessly brushes her lips over Irene's squeezed-shut eye as her hips snap irresistibly forward, fucking Irene so hard she trembles all through as she comes again, pulsing astonishingly tight, thrashing her head so her hair flies glimmering around their faces.

Irene's eyes snap open, wide and opalescent, moonlight-colored ovals full of infinite nothingness as her hands slide together to bracket Raven's waist. She smiles, open-mouthed and ecstatic, and that's all the warning Raven has before her own orgasm hits her, slamming up against Irene's as Irene wrings it hotly out of her in gouts surging up from her clenching balls. Raven screams in shocked delight, feeling every cell of her cock light up with it, every cell of her body, and Irene's voice slides into a gasping laugh as she pulls Raven in that last inch, as their shudders echo into each other as if they're melting together.

"Oh, fuck," Raven gasps, coming back to herself with her face pressed to the side of Irene's head, her nose buried in Irene's silky, redolent hair.

"Yes, my dear," Irene breathes, arms tightening around Raven, "I believe we just did," and all Raven can do is laugh breathlessly as the afterglow radiates through her, as Irene holds her warmly.

At length Raven relaxes all the way, pulling her flesh back into its natural shape, slipping from within Irene. Eventually she shifts sideways from between Irene's thighs, despite Irene's disappointed little noise, giggling wearily as she pivots on her sweetly aching hip, slumps onto her side and reaches back for Irene's wrist. Irene drapes an arm and leg over her and Raven drifts, floating on sated exhaustion; some unmeasured time later, Irene chuckles softly over her nape, and Raven makes an inquiring noise.

"Just thinking," Irene murmurs, "about what an interesting nine months it's going to be. But he'll be beautiful, I can already see."

It takes another breath before surprise flares to shock and Raven's eyes fly open. "You're kidding, right?"

Irene's only answer is a rippling, enigmatic laugh.


End file.
